Weakness
by Mandelarae
Strands of string, similar to fine thread, blew across her face in the wind, the remnants of the day's sunlight picking up the honey-blonde highlights in her hair.
She was standing by her grandfather's grave, brandishing a gun that the man that stood in front of her had offered to her freely. All common sense had completely deserted her and she was tethering dangerously along the lines of insanity and indifference. She was somewhere in between.
He wanted her to shoot him: to put him out of his misery; to make that annoying Relena Dorlian Peacecraft stop stalking him for once and for all. That's what he really wanted.
"Do I want to kill him?" she asked herself, letting her guard down for a millisecond. "Do I really want to avenge my grandfather's death?"
"Go ahead," he said, challenging and at the same time, encouraging her, egging her on.
How she wanted to shoot him! For being so ruthless, so heartless, so cruel.
But then she would just be going against what her grandfather strove hard to achieve, and even died for.
"Senseless killings," she whispered breathlessly. "What Grandfather hated..."
"Well, are you going to kill him or aren't you?" the boy who accompanied Heero Yuy asked. His bangs were gelled in such a way that they defied the laws of gravity, and he seemed partial to turtlenecks. "Are we just wasting our time, Sylvia Noventa?"
"Why am I so weak?" she reprimanded herself. The .32 caliber in her hands was trembling violently.
Heero acknowledged Trowa by giving him a 'huh?' look.
"I AM SO WWWEEEEEAAAAAKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!" Sylvia screamed, thrusting the gun as far away as all her strength could muster.
"Forgive me...Grandfather," Sylvia whispered, hugging her grandfather's gravestone. "I am...too WEAK." She spat the last word out angrily and remorsefully, her frail, delicate little figure racked by a fit of uncontrollable sobs.
The Spandex-clad boy who was partial to green tank tops lay down a bouquet of flowers on the marker, a few feet away from Sylvia, who refused to let go of the gravestone of her grandfather.
Field Marshal Noventa
Rest In Peace
He died fighting for pacifism
"My condolences on the loss of your grandfather," he said, his voice filled with genuine pity, compassion, and for the first time in his life, emotion.
She kicked the bouquet away. It sailed at least thirty feet in the air before touching down to the ground.
"I think you'd want to know what's in the bouquet," Heero whispered.
"What?" Sylvia laughed forcefully, the sarcasm and hatred painfully evident in her voice. "A bomb?"
"No."
The he beckoned to his companion and both left in silence.
Curious, Sylvia retrieved the discarded bouquet. All she saw was a wide array of exotic flowers...nothing more.
When her hand touched paper, slightly moist from the slight drizzle earlier.
She picked up the thrice-folded piece of parchment. The ink, black India ink, was smudged. But you could make out what it was.
A phone number.
Sylvia stared numbly at the piece of paper at first, and seriously considered throwing it away.
But she decided to pocket it, picked herself up off the grassy plain, and walked home.
"You're truly full of surprises, Heero Yuy," she murmured.
Disclaimer: ::smacks head:: Before I forget, me do not own Gundam Wing, ookay? Don't sue me because you will get nothing.
by Mandelarae
Strands of string, similar to fine thread, blew across her face in the wind, the remnants of the day's sunlight picking up the honey-blonde highlights in her hair.
She was standing by her grandfather's grave, brandishing a gun that the man that stood in front of her had offered to her freely. All common sense had completely deserted her and she was tethering dangerously along the lines of insanity and indifference. She was somewhere in between.
He wanted her to shoot him: to put him out of his misery; to make that annoying Relena Dorlian Peacecraft stop stalking him for once and for all. That's what he really wanted.
"Do I want to kill him?" she asked herself, letting her guard down for a millisecond. "Do I really want to avenge my grandfather's death?"
"Go ahead," he said, challenging and at the same time, encouraging her, egging her on.
How she wanted to shoot him! For being so ruthless, so heartless, so cruel.
But then she would just be going against what her grandfather strove hard to achieve, and even died for.
"Senseless killings," she whispered breathlessly. "What Grandfather hated..."
"Well, are you going to kill him or aren't you?" the boy who accompanied Heero Yuy asked. His bangs were gelled in such a way that they defied the laws of gravity, and he seemed partial to turtlenecks. "Are we just wasting our time, Sylvia Noventa?"
"Why am I so weak?" she reprimanded herself. The .32 caliber in her hands was trembling violently.
Heero acknowledged Trowa by giving him a 'huh?' look.
"I AM SO WWWEEEEEAAAAAKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!" Sylvia screamed, thrusting the gun as far away as all her strength could muster.
"Forgive me...Grandfather," Sylvia whispered, hugging her grandfather's gravestone. "I am...too WEAK." She spat the last word out angrily and remorsefully, her frail, delicate little figure racked by a fit of uncontrollable sobs.
The Spandex-clad boy who was partial to green tank tops lay down a bouquet of flowers on the marker, a few feet away from Sylvia, who refused to let go of the gravestone of her grandfather.
Field Marshal Noventa
Rest In Peace
He died fighting for pacifism
"My condolences on the loss of your grandfather," he said, his voice filled with genuine pity, compassion, and for the first time in his life, emotion.
She kicked the bouquet away. It sailed at least thirty feet in the air before touching down to the ground.
"I think you'd want to know what's in the bouquet," Heero whispered.
"What?" Sylvia laughed forcefully, the sarcasm and hatred painfully evident in her voice. "A bomb?"
"No."
The he beckoned to his companion and both left in silence.
Curious, Sylvia retrieved the discarded bouquet. All she saw was a wide array of exotic flowers...nothing more.
When her hand touched paper, slightly moist from the slight drizzle earlier.
She picked up the thrice-folded piece of parchment. The ink, black India ink, was smudged. But you could make out what it was.
A phone number.
Sylvia stared numbly at the piece of paper at first, and seriously considered throwing it away.
But she decided to pocket it, picked herself up off the grassy plain, and walked home.
"You're truly full of surprises, Heero Yuy," she murmured.
Disclaimer: ::smacks head:: Before I forget, me do not own Gundam Wing, ookay? Don't sue me because you will get nothing.